


Accent

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [24]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, Weddings, and families, and tension, oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's been tense between her and Andy since her husband left two nights ago, with nothing but a note on the table and a neat pile of sheets on the couch."</p><p>Sharon and Andy have to get their groove back while dealing with her marriage and his daughter's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accent

**Author's Note:**

> Is anyone else recovered from Sharon’s self-invitation to the wedding? Because I’m sure as hell not.  
> Anyway, enjoy, as always, and let me know what you think. You’re a legend and I love you.

**Accent**

 

She closes the front door with a sigh, dropping her bag near the table and her phone in the little tray on the table-top. 

"Hi" says Rusty from the couch. He has a half-folded sandwich in his hand and a plate on his lap. She's too emotionally drained to bother giving him the usual warning about crumbs. She can tell he's being responsible about it anyway. 

"Hi" she hums back. "You get home okay?" 

"Yeah, the patrol car dropped me off about an hour ago after chess. Is he still sitting downstairs?"

"No, I sent him on his way when I got in" she answers, shedding her jacket and walking around to the kitchen.

"Cool"

"You hungry for dinner, or do you just want leftovers?" she calls, opening the fridge and peaking inside. There should be at least two serves of pasta in there, and she knows that Andy is coming over so she can always call him to grab something on his way. 

"Leftovers is fine, if you don't want to cook" he calls back. He sounds a bit cautious, like he's trying to figure her mood. She knows she must look on the verge of snapping, but really it's just exhaustion, and the fact that she doesn't have to cook is a welcomed relief. She doesn't feel much like eating, but she pulls out a small container of salad and grabs a tuna tin from the cupboard. It's not much, but it'll stop her feeling hungry at bedtime. 

"Is Andy coming over?" he asks when she makes her way back into the lounge. He looks positively alarmed when she brings her food and sits on the couch next to him, but doesn't say anything, and she almost cracks a smile. 

"He is" she answers. She feels Rusty staring at her as she opens her tuna can and empties it onto her salad, and she tries to ignore the way he is so obviously cataloguing her. It's been tense between her and Andy since her husband left two nights ago, with nothing but a note on the table and a neat pile of sheets on the couch. She and Rusty had come home to an empty condo the day after Andy had spoken to Jack, and she's not sure what he said, but it worries her a little bit. Jack never left without a fight before; he always stayed his two nights and then tried to wrangle more. But his note had been a simple memo card, apologising for barging in and thanking her for the two nights she allowed him. He had left a pre-paid number for emergencies, but gave no indication if he was staying in L.A or moving back to Vegas, or maybe going somewhere new altogether. She hasn’t bothered to call the number, but she’s still uncertain.

In a rare show of cowardice she hasn't asked Andy about it. Their latest case has kept them busy and out of contact, except to liaise in the office with the team. She doesn't know how to find equilibrium with him again after being confronted with her marriage, though they are both more committed to this relationship because of it. 

"Is he... okay?" he asks, looking down and away. She knows what he means. 

"He's fine, Rusty" she answers kindly. "We've just been busy. And he's under a bit of stress at the moment"

"Is it because of Jack?" 

She sighs and settles further into the pillows, putting her food on the coffee table and flicking her heals off. "Partly, I think. But also his daughter's wedding, his health, this case. It's just a busy time" she reassures. Rusty doesn't look completely convinced, but it's a show of faith that he drops the issue and accepts her word. He knows she would never lie to him, though she may try to protect him. She smiles, and is about to pick up her salad again when there's a light tap on the door. 

Rusty looks at her, knowing she will get up to answer it, and then pointedly ignores her as she pads over to the door and opens it. 

"Hey" she greets softly. There's a smile in her voice and a light in her eye; he is much the same, though looks equally exhausted.  

"Hey" he says. A flush of relief spreads through her at the sight of his overnight bag in his hand. He steps inside and she closes the door behind him, and then he lightly snakes an arm around her waist and leans in for a kiss. For the first time, she doesn't give a hoot that Rusty is only eight feet away, looking quite intently at the television. She kisses him back rather desperately, and then tucks herself against him for a brief hug. He is happy to indulge her, and she knows without a doubt that they will be okay. 

"Have you eaten?" she asks as she pulls reluctantly away. He steps over to her bedroom door and dumps his bag there. 

"No, I came straight from work" 

"There's some pasta in the fridge from last night, if you want that with Rusty" 

"You don't want it?" he asks. 

"I have my salad" she says, gesturing to her abandoned container. 

"Okay, I'll zap the pasta then"  

He walks towards the kitchen and she follows him, picking up her dinner on the way, and ignoring the way Rusty is so blatantly keeping one eye on them. She knows he only frets because he cares, and she thinks it’s sweet that he’s watching out for what is happening. She can only imagine that this instinct came from a time when he would have to monitor his mother’s boyfriends closely for any sign of another fight, and that saddens her. She hopes she and Andy are providing him with a better role model than that. She thinks they are.

“Did you speak to Nicole today?” she asks softly as Andy is putting the pasta in two bowls. She holds up the container with the salad and eats a mouthful while leaning back against the bench. He sighs as he places one of the pasta bowls in the microwave, and doesn’t turn to face her until he’s pressed the timer and the humming starts. She noticed he took a few phone calls, and could see the tension in his shoulders.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go. I can’t stand her stepfather, and she’s insistent that she wants him to walk her down the aisle too. I know I’ll just end up punching him in the mouth”

She half laughs at him, because he’s only fooling around, but she senses that he’s at a loss for what to do, and she places the container on the bench behind her and steps closer to him, the hum of the microwave drowning out the low timbre of her voice. “What can I do?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “Do you want my opinion?” she prods. It’s a scary notion.

He sighs again and gives her a look. “I get the feeling I’m going to get it anyway”

“Only if you want it. If not, I’ll butt out”

She doesn’t sound affronted that he’s being very private about all of this, and she doesn’t look petulant. He is grateful for that. It’s not that he doesn’t want to include her; he does very much. But he’s been on edge since Jack arrived and uncertain since the man left just as quickly, and the fact that she hasn’t said a word about the visit is unsettling. He figures this is her way of reaching out to him, and recognises that he’s being an arse about it.

“No, don’t butt out” he says, softening. “It’s not that”

She walks up closer to him. “Then what is it?” she asks gently, placing her hand on his arm. “What’s the matter?”

The microwave dings loudly, and they startle apart. “Rusty. Food” calls Andy. He takes the bowl out and hands it to the boy, who disappears back into the living room in a flash, obviously satisfied enough by the lack of hostility to leave them alone. She’s not sure if he’s listening in or pointedly ignoring them, but it doesn’t really matter anyway.

“Andy, talk to me. What is it?” she asks again, and he places the other bowl in the microwave to heat his own dinner. “What’s the real issue here?”

He sighs again and closes his eyes, and when he realises she’s not moving away he looks at her, half smiling, because she’s a persistent thing, and it’s a sign that she really loves him. He likes that.

“I don’t know that I even belong there” he says, almost on a whisper. “And yet, there’s nowhere I’d rather be”

“Why wouldn’t you belong there?” she asks, brow furrowed. “It’s your daughter’s wedding”

“With everything else in her life I’ve missed…”

She hums out a sigh, her head ducking to the side in understanding, her eyes suddenly very sweet and a half smile on her face. She seems to understand exactly what he’s saying, and he only belatedly realises that with her own history she has her own feelings on this. He could kick himself for being so thoughtless, but then she’s never shied away from calling out Jack on being an absent father, and he truly thinks that all of her sympathy is for himself. He finds that overwhelming, and more so when she takes a step closer to him, rests her chest against his arm and props her chin on his shoulder. He feels her hand on his back rubbing light circles.

“Do you want to know what I really think?” she asks, meaningfully.

“Go ahead”

He internally braces himself for a thinly-veiled lecture. She straightens enough to stand straight again, but doesn’t move her hand away from his back.

“Andy, I’ve been there- on the other side of this. I’ve watched my children be disappointed time after time, and I’ve watched my husband make up all kinds of excuses for why he couldn’t go to their school events, their sport meets, their graduation. I’ve heard it all”

“Yeah. And?”

He sounds sharp and defensive; again she recognises that he’s only shielding himself, and later he’ll thank her for being that understanding, because not everyone has her patience, or is willing to wait out his moods, and he loves her that much more for it. He loves that she recognises his need to come around in his own time. He can’t believe anyone would let her go, and is suddenly almost disappointed that he didn’t get to punch Jackson Raydor at least once before he left town.  

She sighs, and he looks at her, then back to the floor. “It never mattered that I warned them he wasn’t going to be there” she continues. “It didn’t matter what excuse he gave, even when it was a legitimate one” She gently urges him to fully face her, and she seeks out his eyes. “It didn’t even matter that he was mostly an absent parent, or that he couldn’t fully appreciate why an event was so important to them. None of that was important”

He looks fully dejected, but eager to listen. “What was important? To your kids, I mean”

She gives him half a smile and holds both of his arms, right near his shoulders, her thumbs circling there in comfort. “They only wanted him to be there” she whispers sadly. “They only wanted to share something with their father that they could never get back. And every time he couldn’t deliver it broke their hearts a little more”

“So what, you’re telling me I’m just adding this to the long list of ways I’ve hurt my kids over the years?” he snaps, shucking out of her grip and spinning on the spot. He doesn’t leave, and although she’s startled by his sudden anger, she holds her tongue and resolves herself to working this out. She knows that one wrong word will see him huffing right out her front door, and with things already strained between them, she’s not sure how they’d come back from that.

“Andy” she starts, stepping close to him again. “This is not about you”

“Bullshit”

“It’s not” she bites back. “This isn’t about you, or Nicole’s stepfather, or her mother… it’s not about any of you. Do you know who it’s about? Hmm?”

He huffs, but gives her an answer. “Nicole”

“That’s right. This is her day. She’s marrying the man of her dreams, in a gorgeous ceremony, dressed like a princess, and all she wants is her father there with her, to see her off-”

“Yeah, with that douchebag on her other arm”

“So?”

“What do you mean _so_ , Sharon, she wants the both of us to give her away, do you realise what a slap in the face that is?”

“Andy” she says, softer than before. “Do _you_ realise how many people in your situation wouldn’t have been asked to walk her down the aisle at all?”

He stops dead, frozen, and though she is genuinely fearful that she’s hit a raw nerve, and he may just stomp out given his mood, she waits. She waits, and tries to pinpoint the exact moment he deflates completely, all his fight draining as he realises what she’s telling him is true. Nicole’s stepfather has played more of a daily father role than Andy ever did; it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to want him to give her away as a symbol of the man who raised her. That she’s even asking Andy is a testament to the bond that lingers despite his mistakes. If she didn’t care about him, she wouldn’t have wanted him on her other arm.

“Nicole wants you to be there. Do you know how precious that is?” she implores. He can only imagine that her own children have long given up on their father, and the idea of never keeping in contact with his kids makes him feel ill.

“So what you’re saying is… I should stop being an ass about this and just go”

She makes a noise that almost sounds like a chuckle, and then holds herself back, aware that he’s still in a broody mood. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying” she says on a smile.

He sighs again, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and mulling it all over in his head. “Everyone there hates me” he mutters, shaking his head, but she takes that to mean that he’s now going. It may be under duress, and with a healthy dose of reticence, but he’ll go, because there’s nothing he wants more than to be there for his daughter, and nothing he loves more than being wanted in the first place.  It’s not ideal, but he’ll go.

“Do you want a buffer?” she asks. She closes the gap between them completely, standing almost flush against him, but with only her hand on his arm.

He meets her eye, and for the first time all night she sees the ghost of a real smile from him. “Is there anyone else I’d want on my arm?”

She grins, and lightly wraps her arms around his waist, a flood of relief pouring over her when his arms come around to hold her too. She sighs contentedly. He squeezes her tight and lets the last of his anger fade away now that he has his answer. Knowing that she’ll be with him helps; he doesn’t want to face it all alone, and she’s a calming presence for him. Perhaps having her there will even make the night enjoyable.

“I know I’m being a complete jerkoff” he mutters into her hair. “Thanks for putting up with me”

She laughs into his chest, rubbing her hands over his waist in acknowledgement, before she turns more serious. “The last thing I want is to see is your relationship with your children turn out like Jack’s relationship with his” She pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye, their arms still lightly around one another. “You’re a better man than that”

He leans in and kisses her. She hums into his lips and returns it; it isn’t passionless, but there is a sense of holding back in his touch, like he’s still learning her again, and she resolves herself to fixing that. Besides, this is more of a thank you anyway; she understands that sometimes when he doesn’t have words he just has to take action, and this action is just fine.

“Come on” she prompts when they part. “Grab your dinner and come sit with us on the couch” Turning her head towards the lounge she calls a bit louder “I believe Rusty found a movie you might like” They hear the volume go up a few notches, and muffled dialogue to a film he thinks he’s seen before.

He hits the microwave for another few seconds, just to put the heat back in his reheated meal, and then when it’s done they walk together to the lounge with their dinner in hand. Rusty has taken up residence in the middle of the couch, and scoots over just far enough for Sharon to slide in next to him while Andy takes the armchair. It’s homely again, and familiar. She leans back and eats the last of her salad, careful not to spill it on the couch, content to watch the movie in peaceful silence.

Later, when Rusty goes to bed and they start packing up the house for the night, it turns a little bit awkward again, and there’s a nervous tension in the air. She doesn’t like it, and pointedly ignores Andy’s eye as she makes her way to her room. He brings his bag inside and sets it down, but she disappears into the bathroom before he can say a word, and he just sighs and gets into his sleepwear in the bedroom. It feels strange to be out of synch with one another after so long of living in harmony.

She comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, teeth brushed, hair down, nighty on. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, casually waiting for her before getting under the covers. She surprises him by walking around the bed to stand in front of him, and he looks up at her, suddenly looking much less tired as he takes stock of her and holds her gaze. His eyes are equally intense, and though they haven't really talked much about their own problems (if they even are that), she gets the feeling that there's not much for them to say; certainly not about her husband, at least, if that was the cause of this. 

She stops right in front of him and his hands come up to rest on her hips, his thumbs caressing her lightly. Her hands come up and run through his hair, and then move over his ears and down to cup his cheeks. Slowly, reverently, she leans in and kisses him, firm and insistent, and feels his hands come around to hold the backs of her thighs. Her hands move around his shoulders and hold on tight. His tongue dances against her lips, and she lets him in with a moan. 

She pulls away after a moment, a little bit breathless, and a few tears welling in her eyes. She doesn’t know why she would cry now, but it could be relief, although logically she never doubted them. He looks much the same, and so she writes it off as the follies of fallible human beings and pushes his shoulders lightly back onto the bed. He loses his tee-shirt first, and she grins at him; he’s getting the idea now.

He watches, enraptured, as she steps towards the door, flicks the lock, steps back towards him, and in one swift motion grabs the hem of her nighty and lifts it over her head. Her hair flicks over one shoulder as it snakes through the collar, and then she’s standing there gloriously naked. He reaches for her and pulls her on top of him. Their lips don’t break as they shuffle further up the bed, and he manages to open the sheets with one hand while the other palms her breast. They’re getting rather good at this coordination thing.

She thinks that after tonight things might just go back to normal, and the thought is enough to put a smile on her face. He smiles right back, just before he flips her over and devours her breast, his hands roaming all over, and then she’s fully in the moment and not cognisant enough to think much more. They do a lot of smiling, she’s noticed, and in such effortless means too.

She intends to keep it that way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s just say that the ‘will my dad or my stepdad walk me down the aisle’ question is one I’ve asked many times, and so I’m just assuming some things with regards to Nicole’s opinions. Thankfully, given my stepdad is now out of the equation, and Dad and I have gotten a little closer in the last few years, I’ve decided that if I ever have a traditional ceremony, my Mum will walk me down the aisle. Problem solved.


End file.
